


Something Else

by Missy



Category: King of the Hill
Genre: Gen, Growing Up, Humor, Sexism, Single Parents, Widowed, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesus said that Luanne's meant for something else - too bad she doesn't know what that thing is yet...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Else

**1: Lucky’s**

Luanne Platter took a long, deep breath as she crossed the threshold of her new house for the first time. The air smelled smoky, vaguely dangerous. She automatically tightened her grip on little Gracie as she walked over the flagstone and cement toward the backyard. 

Cautiously, Luanne inhaled the air, her mind returning to the many cookouts she had experienced in her youth. The scent was an ambrosia that took her back through the years to a youth ill-spent with a fighting family. At least the meals had been great.

“Mmmm….sausages?”

She followed her nose to the small cottonwood that stood sentry over the house, where the odor grew in strength until she found its source; her husband’s makeshift engine grill, created from a half-wrecked old truck. It had, she recalled suddenly, been her Uncle Hank’s idea to make this little grill out of the chassis of a Pontiac Silverbird. 

“Hey Lulu,” Lucky gave her a toothless grin as he held out a plate of well-roasted sausages. “I’ve got dinner all worked out.”

“Aww, you didn’t have to,” she grinned, the part of her psychological makeup formed by her Aunt Peggy thinking to itself that yes, he ought to – Gracie was only six months old, and the majority of the child rearing responsibility had fallen to her. Lucky was often away, had been more distant since his daughter’s birth. Though he tried to help Luanne with the practicalities of day-to-day living, he was more absorbed with the philosophy of trying to figure out why their daughter loved to roll herself over, or why she felt the need to pull Lucky’s hair.

“She’s gonna be a champion professional wrestler,” he declared, something that made Luanne pale a bit; she’d struggled her own way out of the trailer park, living in a better house than Leanne and her father had ever shared. But sometimes Luanne looked at Lucky and wondered if – minus the violence – she was just reliving God’s initial judgment on her life in perpetuity. 

Luanne may have been what Pastor Stroup called a ‘good, god-fearing girl,’ but God had clearly branded her with just one label –plain white trash.

It didn’t bother Luanne most days, that she had succeeded where her mother had failed, but not transcended. She had Lucky’s love and protection, and that was more than enough to satisfy her whenever she felt a pang of longing while driving past Hotties. 

Deliberately clearing her mind, she settled down on the blanket, gently battling her daughter’s grasping hands as she held onto the tip of the bun. “No, Gracie. You have no teeth.” 

“She thinks she’s an alligator,” Lucky said. “She was compin’ and biting like my Uncle Lester.”

Luanne protectively brought the child closer. “No little girl of mine’s going to grow up to eat poodles!”

She DID love him, but his constant talk of stump-pulling and cat-fishing and other things she remembered from her youth made her feel as if she had been rooted to the ground of the old trailer park, captured and caught, pinned down and kept half-dead beneath the weight of the expectations of the old trailer crowd. Luanne refused to admit that her old ambitions haunted her sometimes. She had planed to be a doctor, had wanted to be a lawyer once.

Now she was a barber. Which was kind of like being a beautician, only the tips came with long looks down her cleavage.

“How was work today?” she asked Lucky.

“I think I need to see other tree stumps,” he blurted out.

She frowned. “Isn’t Big Timmy taking you down to the old hickory swamp on Friday?”

“Mmm-hmm. But he’s not going to be around for too much longer. He still has a plate in his head from the great war, and he thinks he hears voices.” Lucky shook his head. “Poor fella’s getting transmissions from the Preacher Lightly’s Power Hour Revival Tent. He thinks his daughter’s gonna put him away next time she’s down for a visit.”

“There’ll be other hunting buddies!” she smiled. “If you want, I’ll come pull up stumps with you!”

“No, Luanne,” Lucky said, quite expansively. “This is men’s work. You can’t fake the thrill of finding something as sweet as a fresh redwood stump beggin’ to be turned into some hipster’s chair while among the more distaff persuasion. It’s time for me to hit the great wide open and find me the right stump to pull. For our baby girl’s sake.”

“Don’t quote Tom Petty at me!” Luanne complained. “You know I get weak when you do that.”

“Now now, Lulu,” he said. “We agreed when we got married that if I ever felt the pulling, you’d let me go and stay behind to hold down the fort. Adventure’s in the McElroy blood, and I’m afraid that blood pre-dates our association.” He got up and turned toward the grill.

“BLOOD REPLACES ITSELF EVERY COUPLE OF DAYS!” Luanne cried out. 

“Don’t be a jealous female,” he begged of her. “I’ll send you postcards, I’ll even call, as long as your Uncle Hank’s willing to pay for the minutes…”

“Why don’t you pay for your own minutes with your stumpin’ money? In fact - why don’t you ever pay for ANYTHING with your stumping money?”

Lucky turned back and stared at her in utter confusion. “Because it’s my stumping money?”

But Luanne couldn’t see anything beyond the simple fact that he was leaving her, just as her father had chosen to walk away years ago to live on that oil rig. “IT’S OUR STUMPING MONEY!” Luanne shouted. “Lucky McElroy, you’re the most self-centered husband in the history of the world!”

“Aww, honeychild…”

“Keep all your sweet little nothings, Lucky! Just go on with your stumping budies and your fisting friends – Gracie and me’ll be just fine by ourselves!” 

“I suppose you just might be,” Lucky said, dull-voiced, thoughtful – a numbly horrified part of Luanne’s brain recognized that he was contemplating the situation from the perspective of possible bachelorhood. He conjured up no remorse and actually smiled. “Yep, I suppose that might work out just fine…”

Luanne’s anger hardened. “FINE. And I don’t care if I ever see you again!” Luanne declared, picking up Gracie and stomping her way back toward the house. Suburban air was supposed to smell like fresh and clean, but as far as Luanne was concerned that sweetly-lit suburban afternoon smelled like pure bull hockey. 

The next thing she was consciously aware of was the sudden sparking of flame from the corner of the patio. She heard the rush of propane being expelled into the air, sparking up, and the howl of her husband, before she whirled around and witnessed what was once a perfectly lovely unregulated car-grill – and a perfectly kind, loving marriage - turn into an incinerating fireball.

**2: Uncle Hank’s**

“It was a lovely funeral,” her Aunt Peggy said as they entered the Hill house a week later. 

“Mmm,” Luanne mumbled. Gracie babbled against her neck, ebullient in her maintained innocence. And as she shifted the toddler in her grip, Luanne trying to keep herself from remembering too clearly the incident that had made the child a fatherless creature. 

“And my Frito Pies were the hit of the wake, if I do say so myself,” Peggy said. “MUCH more popular than Minh’s tuna casserole.” She paused nervously, checking Luanne’s expression. “Your uncle Hank should be home with your ice cream soon.” They walked together into the den, Peggy flicking on the overhead light and illuminating the room entirely.

“Thank you, Aunt Peg.” Luanne settled down, crossing her legs as she placed Gracie in her lap. Her every gesture and step read woodenly; Peggy immediately began to worry about her young niece’s mental reliance. 

“Would you like a glass of water?” she asked. “Or something else to eat?”

Luanne shook her head. “Food’s the last thing on my mind,” she admitted. 

“Well, that’s why I’m here. How about a nice jucy stea…” Peggy trailed off and coughed, hustling over to the portable TV set and turning it on. “There should be a soap opera on…” she flicked the button until the inane chatter and orchestrated music flooded the room. “All right,” Peggy said overbrightly. “I called Bill from the church – he’ll be looking after the shop while you’re under the weather.”

“I’m not sick,” Luanne insisted Peggy. “I’m just sad, ‘cause my husband’s gone to pull stumps with the angels.”

“Yes,” Peggy muttered. “With the angels - well, that’s the right attitude! He’s in a better place…better places, more precisely, as the firemen said…”

Luanne let out a wail, and Peggy threw her arms around the girl’s neck. “Oh, Luanne, don’t cry! It’ll be just like the old days! You can work from ten to nine at the barber shop, and I’ll take care of Gracie. My firm has an excellent daycare center, and I’d be glad to look in on her during my lunch breaks. Little Gracie won’t want for anything…”

A knock at the door, and Luanne turned her head to see little Bobby inhabiting the doorframe. “Hi, Luanne,” he said gently. “Mom, Grandma Platter’s on the phone.”

“Good lord,” Peggy groused. “I just spoke with that woman this morning. Thank you, Bobby.” 

In the space between Peggy’s getting up from the bed and her moving toward the door, Bobby destroyed the calm Peggy had managed to establish. “Uh…Luanne? I’m really sorry Uncle Lucky blew up.”

Luanne keened, Peggy groaned, and Gracie started chewing on her mother’s bracelet. When Hank came home to the argumentative disorder several moments later, he immediately laid down the law and sent Bobby off to his room. 

Luanne had disappeared during the fray, and he was forced to trace her steps back to his guest room. She sat with Gracie, staring out the window, toward the burned-out husk of her home. Hank coughed to draw her attention, and when Luanne didn’t move he stood awkwardly still and scratched the back of his neck.

“I’ve got your ice cream, Luanne,” he finally said. “And I’d appreciate you telling me where to put it.” 

“Huh? Oh,” she shrugged. “I guess I’ll take it here.” She extended the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her daughter’s back.

Hank gave the baby an awkward smile, then cringed as Luanne dropped the container onto the windowsill with a loud clatter. His first thought was for Gracie, and he reached to cover her ears. “Gonna melt if you don’t have it now.”

“Melt,” Luanne said flatly. “That’s just what happened to Lucky’s face last week.” Hank coughed again, averting his eyes. “No, Uncle Hank, you don’t have to make me feel better.” She glowered. “I know what God meant when he said I was meant for something else now….”

Hank gave his nice a long-suffering sigh, lifting his glasses aside to rub his eyes. “….Luanne, that was a nightmare. Angels don’t cause car accidents. If anything, they’d be hyper-vigilant of all of the rules of the road.”

“But it’s my fault, Uncle Hank. I’m the one who got Lucky all burnt up ‘cause I was mad at him. Just like poor angel Buckley.” She shook her head. “God’s telling me something, and that something is keeping away from every man in the world!”

“…I think you should talk to your aunt Peg about your…” he cringed. “Luanne, God didn’t take Lucky and Buckley to teach you a lesson. They were both – God forgive me for badmouthing the dead – a couple of grade-a jackasses who didn’t know enough to keep the a lighter away from an intake valve. Not one bit of that is your fault.”

She gave him a bitter laugh. “But I know how to pick ‘em, don’t I, Uncle Hank?” She held out Gracie. “Look at my little girl! She won’t have a daddy to teach her how to ride a bike, or count to ten!”

“I seriously doubt Lucky could have taught her either of those things.” Hank’s smile held less intimidation this time. He reached for Gracie and Luanne reluctantly surrended her child to her Uncle’s arms. “But you’re a smart enough gal to teach her. Y’know what? I think Miss Grace is in fine hands” Grace responded by babbling loudly and making a grab for Hank’s glasses, forcing him to dodge her with a laugh. “This gal’s already got a lot of spirit in in her. Would you lookit that? She’s got a better right than Bobby did at her age.”

His words appease Luanne’s burning concern. She frowned and turned away from the scene. “Do you think I can really do it, Uncle Hank?” she wondered.

“I’m pretty darn sure you can do it,” he replied. “With your Aunt Peg’s help, that is.”

“No,” she shook her head. “Not this time. This time, I wanna earn everything by myself, without any help from A guy or my aunt, or the little woodland creatures that live in my closet….” Hank blinked at her. “The Manger Babies!” She clasped her face. “Oh my god! THE MANGER BABIES.”

“Now, Luanne, don’t worry about that. Your Aunt Peg’s already poked around on the E-Bay, and we’ve found some puppets that look just like the old ones. We’ll just buy those for you and you can go on…teaching children about the Lord with them?” That was what Luanne did with those things, of that he was fairly certain.

“But they won’t be the same!” she shook her head. “And….oh GOSH, Obadiah was afraid of fire!!” She let out another watery sob before squaring her shoulders. “No, no…listen to me – trying to be all grown up and I’m worried about puppets!”

“I’m sure it’s all part of the grieving process. For women.” He held out Gracie. “I believe she’s soiled her diaper.”

She held the baby out. “Yes. She has.” Frowning, Luanne moved toward the changing table like a zombie. “Just give it some thought,” her uncle suggested. “There’s always a chance things’ll turn out right in the end.”

“For anybody unexploded,” she corrected with a frown, then turned toward her baby as the ice cream melted down the side of the carton.

**3: Property of the Arlen School System**

In the beginning it was exactly as her Aunt Peg thought it should be. Luanne rose at six with the baby, nursed and played with her for an hour, then tossed herself in the shower. From nine until noon, she went back to Arlen Community College, attending classes in finance and business management. After lunch, she’d relieve Bill at the shop, cutting jarheads and frowning old men and weeping little boys for the next six hours, bending over the chairs whenever she needed an extra dollar for gas. Then it was back to the Hills, to stare across the street at the house her Uncle was rebuilding with happy, almost feckless delight; to dinner, another shower, playtime with Gracie and a slow, inexorable collapse into bed. 

Throughout all of these activities, Luanne moved like a zombie, drawing marked but unnoticed concern from her Uncle, Cousin, Aunt, and most of the neighbors (“Was Luanne replaced by a lifelike zombie during the night?” Dale Gribble asked her Uncle, earning him a sigh and a punch to the back of the head.) Her Aunt Peg tried to liven up her life by inviting Luanne out to various family activities, and at various times took her out for heart-to-hearts and ‘girls nights out’, but Luanne continued to lurch through her life like a zombie on Prozac.

It was deep into the night on a Monday in the middle of August when Peggy rolled over and burrowed her face against Hank’s shoulder. 

He embraced her, gently but with an air of awkwardness. “Peg, it’s too late for…maritals,” he said, patting her shoulder. “I care for you deeply, but I have to supervise a Wagner Grill-O-Rama at six…”

“Oh Hank,” she moaned, and he felt a trail of wetness form and drip down the side of his neck. 

Which immediately sent Hank into a knee-jerk panic. “Peg,” Hank muttered thickly, petting her back. “Uh, are you having your…lady-issue?”

This time she shoved him. “No! I was thinking about Luanne…”

“That would make me upset, too. She looks like a really sad zombie from one of those Romero pictures.” She pulled away and stared at him, and Hank squirmed. “What? I’m hip! I know about the Romeros and the Raimis…”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking of,” Peggy declared. “Luanne’s been failing her economics class. If she doesn’t learn complex algebra, she’ll never graduate, and if she never graduates, she’ll never learn how to balance a checkbook, and if she doesn’t do that then she’ll have to sell the barber shop and she’ll have to raise her daughter …”

“First of all, that won’t happen. The fellas and I almost have her house built. The frame’s nice and solid, and the sheetrocking starts next week. Second of all, I’m sure Luanne handled the checkbook while she was married to Lucky.”

“Well…” Peggy squirmed. “I did have to help her balance it…every week. Lucky was the money brains in the family, and if he was out of town she’d never…” 

“Lucky had the money brains?” Hank stared at her in open-mouthed horror. “Good God.”

“….And now she needs to figure out how to run things by herself. That girl’s just not used to living on her own.” Peggy shook her head and sighed. “We’re going to have to find something that girl can do to keep that baby fed.” 

Hank eyeballed her. “Please tell me you’re not thinking of…” 

Peggy stared at him for a moment. “…Suggesting she start stripping?”

“PEG.”

“It makes a lot of money!” she protested. “And it’s something strong, independent women do nowadays! I read about it in Marie Claire last week.” She threw out her arms. “I don’t know, Hank! My mind’s going fifty miles a minute!” 

“Why don’t you just talk to her? I’m sure she has some kind of feelings on the subject. Special feelings, that are none of her Uncle’s business…God I hope so…”

“Well,” Peggy frowned. “I still want her to get some kind of education – something better than a print-out from an online barber college. And she needs to make enough to support herself. I guess I’m going to have to be firm with her from now on.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for years, Peg,” Hank replied. “Now, I’d like to get some gosh-dang sleep,” he added, pecking her forehead.

****

But Peggy still expected Luanne to do something – anything, as long as it kept her safe and fed – with her time. Luanne herself didn’t have a particular direction, and that was what resulted in a very long, very awkward phone call to her Aunt Peg while she was showing a house to a couple of yuppies who just moved to Arlen.

“Aunt Peg.” The warbling fear in the girls’ voice made Peggy’s skin crawl. “I’m in prison.”

“Oh.” Tears began, and Peggy was soon on the receiving end of one of Luanne’s high-decibel wails. “Oh God, Luanne, do NOT touch anything. I’ll be right over to bail you out!”

“But I don’t know if they’ll let me out!”

“I’m on my way…I am on my way.” Peg closed out the connection and held her cell phone to her breast. “Oh no. No no. The circle’s gone complete.”

**4: Like Mommy**

Luanne, on further reflection, didn’t know why she’d punched out her customer that afternoon. Probably because she’d gone on and on about how the ‘good’ salon was overbooked and Luanne’s barber shop was all right ‘in a pinch’. It was like listening to those girls from beauty college all over again. 

Naturally, the only recourse had been to fight fire with fire. 

It was something Leanne would have done.

That was what horrified Luanne so very much. Her _mother_ would have hurt somebody for saying cruel things to her. Leanne was the sort of woman Luanne had struggled her entire life not to be. She craved a stable, safe, clean, violence-free household, and in her Uncle Hank’s house she had finally found it. 

Luanne cringed and kicked the wall. She’d blown it. She had married a guy just like her own dad, then gone crazy just like her mom. “I’ve been afraid of it for so long. I should’ve just realized it was gonna happen no matter how hard I fought.”

The cell door creaked open and she straightened up. “Hello. Are you here to teach me how to make a shiv?”

There stood a balding man in a white dress shirt, black slacks and a blue tie. He adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses and stared at her in confusion. “Did I stumble into the wrong cell? Oh God, this is death row, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I’ll go get Father Dimmity for your confession….”

She shook her head. “I’m Luanne Kleinshmidt. I punched a girl in the head and called her a dummy.” She held out her wrist and arched her neck. “I’m ready to get punished.”

The doctor blinked at her. “No, Miss Kleinshmidt. I’m here to arrange for your grief counseling. You’re free to go.”

“But I ain’t…I’m not grieving,” she protested. “I just punched a girl for calling me low-class.”

“Well, she was wrong to do that, but when I spoke to your aunt and tried to uncover the origin of your behavior. She told me about the unfortunate death of your husband and she thought you and I could rap.” He grinned. “Now where would you like to talk about your future?”

Luanne bit her bottom lip “Somewhere that doesn’t smell like pee pee.”

“I can definitely arrange that.”

*** 

“Now Luanne,” the counselor said, holding out a cup of coffee, “I understand that Saturdays are bad for you.”

Luanne fiddled with the little plastic stirrer he’d stuck into her cup. “I work late at my barber shop, then I take care of my little girl until my Aunt Peg comes back from Bobby’s soccer practice.” She rose her head proudly. “My aunt asked if she wanted me to take care of Gracie, but we’re doing fine on our own.”

“Fascinating.”

“…Fascinating?” she worried. Fascinating was not the sort of word she wanted applied to her life; it was the kind of word they’d used on her mother just before they’d put her away for stabbing daddy with a fork. 

“Because….” Luanne stared at him uncomprehending. “That’s not what I asked you. You volunteered much more information than I asked for.”

Luanne blushed and scuffed her shoe against the floor. “I just have a lot to explain,” she admitted. “Everything’s been real hard since Lucky died.” 

“I’ve heard that the circumstances were tragic, but unless you’re ready to vent,” he took a moment to reach into his wallet and pull out a card,” I won’t pressure you for them.”

Luanne took the card, eyed it and made a very soft squealing noise. “It’s embossed,” she said, sounding epically impressed. “Just like the stationary the training school uses.” 

He sighed. “I wrote your appointment on the back. Just call Doctor Hippensteel if you can’t make it.”

“Doctor Hippensteel,” Luanne repeated the name like a complicated mantra she’d have to learn. “That’s a very long name.”

“It’s German. Like Klenshmidt,” he added. If he had sought to loosen her up, the opposite effect set in.

“Do you think you can find out why I’m so angry?”

“Ma’am,” he said softly, “you are the least angry woman I’ve ever met.”

She finally smiled, tucking the card into her pocket. It was the only thing there until the police gave her back her wallet and the prayer cards she’d come in with.

**5: Daddy’s**

“….So,” she worried, her toes fidgeting against the arm of the couch cushion. “Is there anything wrong with me?”

Doctor Hippensteel sighed and tapped his pencil against his notepad. “You’re not abnormal, Luanne, I explained that much earlier.”

“But if I’m normal, why do I have to keep coming?” she frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be mean. You’re a very nice doctor. You smell like pencils and liniment oil.” 

The doctor gave her another stiff smile. “You’ve only just started your counseling,” he explained. “We’re nearly to the root of the trauma that’s caused your anger, but I’d really like to explore the reason why you have a distant relationship with your father.”

“Daddy works on an oil rig,” she smiled. “He went there after my mamma stabbed him with a fork.”

“Doesn’t he ever come to the mainland?” Hippensteel asked. “Surely there must be time for him to visit with you when he leaves for supplies, or when the rig switches teams. You know it must be unionized…”

“Nuh-uh,” Luanne scolded. “They always have to stay on the rig. That’s what my daddy said,” she insisted.

“Have you ever considered that he might be lying to you?” asked the doctor.

Luanne pouted. “No! Daddy wouldn’t lie to, me….” she frowned. “Would he?”

Hippensteel frowned as he turned toward his messy desk, pulling out a piece of white computer paper and showing it to Luanne. “Your father is incarcerated in the Washoe County Penal System for violation of past warrants, as well as theft. He’s allowed a call every week – I happened to be the one he took this week.” The good doctor smiled over the tops of his glasses at Luanne. “Next week, I’ve arranged for him to call you at your Uncle’s house. It should be around three o’clock.”

She squealed. “I’ve missed talking to daddy so much!” she grinned. “Thank you so much doctor.” 

“Happy to help,” he crossed out a name and frowned. “Now, about those creatures you talked about last week. What ARE Manger Babies?”

****  
Hank eyeballed his young niece as she sat hopefully beside the phone. “Peg,” he whispered, “Luanne’s sitting next to the phone in her Sunday best. What in the Sam Hill is going on?”

Peggy smiled. “My brilliant idea at work,” she explained. “Doctor Hippensteel called my brother and told him to call Luanne.”

“They found Hoyt?” he whistled. “Now, Peg, I don’t put a lotta faith in guys like that Hippensteel fella,” Hank admitted. “And you know I think psychiatry…”

“…Just covers up a severe lack of discipline, Willie Nelson, and propane,” Peggy recited in playful response. 

“No,” Hank said, “I just think it’s asinine.” He replied. “But if it gets your good-for-nothing brother to pay attention to her daughter, I might praise it to the high heavens.”

Peggy smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t be that nice to him – but my has he worked wonders with Luanne.” 

Bobby wandered into the kitchen with baby Grace in his arms. She had attached herself to his nose and was sucking merrily away. “Mom,” he said, deadpan, “I think Gracie’s hungry.”

“Oh dear,” Peggy said, picking up the baby as the kitchen phone chimed. “Come on, boys; I’ve got a bottle on the stove…” She rushed over to the stove, pulled it triumphantly from the pan of lukewarm water where it bobbed. The nipple was quickly plunged into Gracie’s open mouth, and the little “Who wants to go to Luby’s for dinner?”  
“Sounds good,” Hank said, then asked Bobby, “I don’t know about you, but I’m craving a twenty-ounce porterhouse?”  
“Actually, dad, I was thinking of the salad,” he said, holding open the door for his mom. “There’s  
“Not again with the veganism talk…” Hank growled. The rest of their conversation was obscured by the closing door. Peggy only lingered to catch Luanne’s eye on her way out the door. _Good luck,_ she mouthed.

Her niece beamed as she turned toward the phone. _Thank you,_ she mouthed.

Peggy left the room, cradling Gracie like the precious gem she would always be. Hank waited for her with is disapproving glare.

“It’s hopeless,” he decided.

Peggy handed him the baby. “Now Hank, maybe he’s changed a little…”

*** 

“Hello, daddy? No, this is Luanne… not Leanne… yes! Lulu! Oh daddy, it’s so good to hear your voice. I haven’t heard from you since I got married… yeah but … yeah …how did you get hurt? Oh that’s awful! But daddy… daddy, I had a baby! .... no, it’s not a boy, it’s a girl…. her name is Grace Margaret…. Grace. Margaret McElroy ….. Yes …. we call her Gracie…. daddy? I have news, daddy…. But… how big was his knife?.... But are you okay? ....Yes …. DADDY…. Lucky’s gone…. No, he didn’t leave me!...what do you mean he was bound to?!.... He died, daddy…. it was an explosion… yes, like Buckley, but he burnt up the house too… so I’m staying with Aunt Peg again… and I’m back at school, too…. No, I’m still at the barber shop, too… it’s all mine now. I have people who work for me… Who? Bill Dauterive. One of Uncle Hank’s friends. He’s a barber in the army… uh huh barbers are in the army now…. Daddy….. daddy I know it’s scary in prison, but why don’t you listen to me? Daddy, I just wanted to say…. Daddy, I love you! I miss….”

Luanne held the receiver in her hand, the dialtone burring its way into her brain as numb waves of disappointment wrapped themselves around her. She couldn’t even cry.

Instead she dialed her therapist’s number.

*** 

“Well,” doctor Hippensteel said, “that’s the problem with recursive treatments. Sometimes the people around you aren’t willing to listen to your apologies.”

Luanne cringed. “I wish we could just make up,” she confessed. 

“All hope’s not lost,” he declared. “You could always try in another year, when he’s out of jail. But for now, I’d stay away, and focus on you.” Then, eyeballing her over his pad, he asked out of sheer curiosity, “did speaking with him make you feel any better?”

Luanne thought about it for a moment. “I guess so. I feel a little less icky, but that might be because I’m dead inside.”

“If you were dead inside you wouldn’t able to cry,” he pointed out. “And you,” he gave her a tissue, into which Luanne noisly blew her nose, “it’s self-explanatory.”

Luanne cringed. “But what should I do to make it okay again?”

“It might never be all right again.” He declared plainly. “You might always have to live with the fact that your father is a self-centered criminal with no sense of family, nor any ability to take care of his daughter. Could you be all right with that, Luanne? Or are you going to let yourself get hung up on the fact that your daddy is no-good?”

Luanne shook her head. “I love daddy, but I can’t let him do that.”

“Then let’s move forward,” Doctor Hippensteel encouraged. “The next thing I want you to do is think – really think – about what you’d like to do with your life. I bet if you let your imagination run wild, you’ll come up with something wonderful.”

“Hmmm….” Luanne thought for a few moments before coming up, outrageously, with the most interesting solution. “I wanted to run away with the circus when I was little.”

“I’m afraid,” her doctor declared, “that isn’t a practical solution.” 

“But what if I teach Gracie how to ride the elephant…” she trailed off and sighed. “I guess it wouldn’t be safe for her. And elephants don’t like babies.”

“I’m sure National Geographic has much to say on the matter,” he retorted. “Why don’t you keep thinking?” he asked. “Today’s the first day of the rest of Luanne’s life. What will she ever do with her time?”

Luanne bit her bottom lip. “I guess I’ll just have to figure that out,” she admitted. “But whatever it’s gonna be,” she grinned, “I bet it’ll be great!”

“Yes,” he agreed readily enough, “as long as, according to my notes, it doesn’t result in you shaving cat’s behinds for the rest of your life.”

She shuddered. “Poor kittys. What did they ever do to deserve that?”

“Have poor hygiene,” he rolled his eyes behind his pad. “Take a look around Arlen, Luanne. Let your spirit guide you to someplace new and fascinating! Free your soul!”

“Okay!” she agreed happily enough. “…Where should I start?”

He marked down the date and time of her net visit on his carefully-lined appointment pad. After ripping it off, he handed it to her. “Wherever you need to, Ms. Kleinshmidt. You’re well on your way toward building a brand new Luanne. Keep following your instincts and soon you won’t need these weekly appointments.” 

Luanne clutched the note to her chest. It was an unusual invitation – and she was guaranteed to follow her spirit toward it at any cost!

Driving home, Luanne grinned to herself as she remembered her therapist’s words. Was it really possible to discover a new her lying under the half-sloughed off skin of her own life? A new Luanne. The blonde woman smiled and squared her shoulders. If she could figure out a way to do the things she really wanted to do without hurting Gracie it’d be a miracle.

She smiled. Heck, Jesus had risen the dead for worse reasons.

**6: Gracie’s**

It was Peggy who noticed Luanne’s odd behavior first – mostly because she was closest to the girl, and mostly because she was heavily conscious of any ripple made in the tranquil pond of her happy homelife. It wasn’t the sudden breezy joy with which she tackled every new task she set herself to or the fact that she seemed excited about the reconstruction of her house, but the way she seemed to pay extra-special attention to every single thing she saw in every single place she went. 

Peg tried valiantly not to comment on the situation; what help could she offer when Luanne seemed so happy, attuned, and ready to learn? It was like Peggy had the teenager she had rescued from the trailer park back once again. So, in light of Luanne’s joy, she bit her lip and let Luanne do what she wanted to do, ever-cautious that someone, somehow, somewhere, would un-stick Luanne from her walking daydream and bring her back to earth, to normal existence and clarity.

Peggy didn’t have long to wait. Not three weeks after Doctor Hippensteel instructed Luanne to be aware of the signs around her did she run home after work to throw her arms around Peggy and shriek like an excited little girl, twirling them both around until Peggy fell dizzily into a kitchen chair.

“My my, Luanne - you’re feeling your oats today!”

“Aunt Peg, I found it!” she giggled. “I kept looking and looking, and the doctor said that if I kept trying to find it I would, and I DID!” she grinned, twirling around in another dizzying circle. She ran to her daughter’s playpen and pulled Gracie out so she could join in the dizzying, twirling celebration dance.

“Well, don’t keep it to yourself!” Peggy grinned. “Come on and tell me everything!”

Luanne managed to toss the balled-up flyer she’d been clinging to toward Peggy, and Peggy unfolded it against the kitchen table, ironing out all of the creases as she tried to peer down at the smeared words set out before her. “Oh, Luanne,” she sighed. “Vocational school?”

“I’m gonna be a mechanic!” Luanne cried out. “Isn’t it great?”

“But mechanics don’t make as much money as hairdressers,” Peggy protested.

“Uhh uh, Aunt Peg. If I apprentice Gene Bobby down at the Quickie Slurp, I’ll be able to save up for my own garage, real easy! You know how Mister Tony down at McMainerberry Lube and Tire is trying to sell off his shop!” she grinned. “If I save my money I’ll be able to buy him out.”

“Girl, you’re dreaming bigger than the big leagues!” Peggy grinned. “You’re dreaming straight to the sky!” She frowned and paused. “But moving all the way out to McMainerberry?”she worried. 

“Aww, Aunt Peg!” She grinned. “You’re all pinchy-faced like you were when I said I wanted to be the mayor of McDonaldtown when I grew up in my high school yearbook.”

“The situations are hardly similar,” insisted Peggy. “You wanted to be the queen of cheese then – now you want to take my only niece away to another county to sling lube jobs.”

“I know it sounds scary now,” Luanne said breezily. “but I really think I can do it, Aunt Peg. And McMainerberry’s not too far away!” she grinned and punched Peggy lightly in the arm. “I’ll be just fine, Aunt Peg! And I’ll have a rose garden, and a room for you to visit in, and all the things I couldn’t have with Lucky, or couldn’t do back when I was working at the barber shop!” she grinned. “The BIG leagues, Aunt Peg!”

There was a moment of hesitation, of consideration, that passed between Peggy and Luanne. She had no idea if she could possibly, really, truly release the girl into the world. She saw in her mind’s eye what had happened the last time she’d trusted Luanne to call all of her own shots. Then Peggy’s jaw firmed, and she smiled.

“All right, Luanne,” she said. “I’ll always be proud of you. But I guess it’s time you did something to make yourself proud…”

Luanne cut her aunt off with a squeal and a hug. “I won’t let you down, Aunt Peg! I promise!”

Peggy believed Luanne for the first time in a few years. And for the first time in quite awhile, she smiled as she thought of her niece’s future. 

**7: Property of MacAllister’s Regional Tech**

Luanne was visibly excited as she registered for classes. In her ballcap and with her surprisingly steely pose, she counted the days down, then hung a ‘closed’ sign on the door of the barber shop and drove at top speed with her daughter in the back of her pickup truck, carrying Gracie into the parquet vestibule of the technical college. 

“Hi,” she smiled at the red-haired woman behind the desk. “I’m looking for your daycare center?”

“Oh no,” she flatlined. “We don’t have a daycare center. It was in your student orientation brochure…”

“But…”

“You DID attend student orientation, didn’t you?” asked snidely. Then she sighed at Luanne’s deer-caught in headlights expression. “There’s a daycare center across the street that would be happy to take your child.” She threw a pink mimeographed piece of paper at Luanne. “These are their going rates….” her pen cut across the paper with the rapid efficiency of a tapinaki chef. “….Twice if you take more than an hour of their time. They’re bonded and accredited with the state so…” She frowned at Luanne’s expression. “What’s wrong?” she asked. 

“This costs twice than what I make as a barber.” She worried her bottom lip. “If I give Gracie to them, I won’t have any money left at all!”

“Ma’am,” said the older woman, “you can’t put a price on your baby’s safety, can you?”

“No!” she said, and clutched Gracie’s carrier closer to her chest. 

“Then you should heed my advice,” she said. “Take the baby there and she’ll be kept safely while you work.” 

“Thank you,” Luanne said, her mind overloaded with negative thoughts. It was utterly impossible for her to get there and back before the first lecture, so she took firm hold of Gracie’s baby carrier and walked down the hall and a long flight of stairs, until she reached the garage-like setup of cars in the basement. 

Six sets of eyes bore down on her, took in the baby, and dismissed her; six mouths snickered. A sour-faced man wearing a navy polo shirt watched her approach, took in her style of dressed, and turned dismissively toward the class.

“While we wait for this young lady to settle down, let’s talk about engine components.”

While he pointed out the various parts that made the Ford prostrated before him run, Luanne gave the person nearest her a small, sunny smile.

“Hi,” she whispered, “my name’s Luanne, this is my first day.”

“Hey, nice boobs,” he dismissed her.

Her instructor slammed the hood closed, then turned back towards “Ms…” 

“Kleinshmidt,” Luanne said proudly. 

“Ms. Kleinshmidt. If you have anything to share with the class, please do so,” he said. “I have something to teach and I would appreciate your attention. IF you’re not interested in learning something, then I suggest you take your daughter and find a more appropriate venue. Maybe the mommyaerobics class next door?

Luanne flushed and placed Gracie on a workbench, safely away from the various cars lying open and gutted in the dim light. She approached the car quietly, her eyes locked straight ahead, he lip quivering. Kinder words had made her cry; these vicious ones would not win her tears or make her break down. 

But darned if her lip wasn’t quivering. _Why didn’t I let Aunt Peg take care of Gracie?_ she wondered to herself. Maybe it was sheer stubbornness at work, but she had turned her aunt’s childcare offer down cold. She vowed to never again let such a chance pass her by.

They called on her to name all of the basic parts of the engine, to list various ways to properly clean it, and asked her if she could completely repeat the instructions he’d given to her for snaking an engine. She could do most of the things they’d taught her, but no one asked her to try. In fact her every gesture was pointedly ignored, and when she was paired with another young man to flush out the radiator he groaned, moaned, and complained about her lack of talent.

Luanne buttoned her lip and did her best – but he refused to help her, even for a second, with the task. When the engine was tested, it gave a wee whine, but nothing but dust choked out of it.

There was laughter, then. Cruel laughter that clung to her nerves. 

But unlike Trina Johnson, these jerks couldn’t make her cry. Her courage redoubled, and she crawled on her hands and knees under the chassis, changing the oil and rehydrating the engine.

“Try it now,” she said firmly.

The professor rolled his keys between his fingers. “Did you check the hydraulic pump?”

“Yes,” Luanne said serenely. “I did.”

His eyes narrowed into a piggish glare, but he ducked into the cab and turned the key.

The engine purred. 

*** 

As she related this exciting first day to her psychiatrist, Doctor Hippensteel only frowned in thoughtful contemplation.

“Automotive repair?” he sighed. “Luanne, I hoped you might take on a more scientific pursuit. Something that’s worthy of your brainpower.”

“I’ve always been good at fixing cars,” Luanne insisted. “Besides make-up, it’s the only thing I know how to do.” 

“Have you ever tried poetry?” he asked. “Or public speaking?”

“Once I threw up on a girl during a Christmas pageant,” she said, honestly.

“iiii see,” responded Doctor Hippensteel. “Well, if working toward such a business makes you happy and keeps you mentally fit, then who am I to stand in the way of such noble decision?”

“Thank you,” Luanne said benignly, entirely missing his sarcasm. 

While he encouraged her to try different things that would stretch her imagination, Luanne’s own mind was absorbed by the hope and promise of brand-new territories. It wasn’t as if she’d been promised the sun through pigs tails and carburetors, but she felt as if she’d finally gained a purpose, and in following this new path discovered a new self she’d never met.

Her Uncle Hank and Aunt Peg were far more receptive to her good news. “Now that’s the key to success,” Uncle Hank said, pointing his fork at her. “Hard work, a little elbow grease and a lot of determination.”

“And good for you for standing up to those bullies!” Peggy encouraged. “The old Luanne would have come crying back to us – but .” Peggy actually smiled. “This is the kind of change I’ve been hoping to see. I’m so proud of you, Luanne.”

She grinned. “Thanks Aunt Peg…you won’t mind taking Gracie from now on?”

“Not at all,” said Peggy. “I wish you’d taken my advice and let me keep her in the first place.”

“That’s one thing this week’s taught me, Aunt Peg,” she declared. “And that’s to listen to people more…and to learn when to stop listening to them.”

An interesting idea. Peggy’s eyebrow rose, but Luanne said nothing more, picking up Gracie and carrying her into the back room to be nursed.

The new Luane wouldn’t let her cry. At least not in public.

**8: Formerly Luby’s**

She hadn’t been made to ‘do good hair’. The realization finally dawned on her as a customer screamed at her for cutting his sideburns too tightly. It was her third customer lost to daydreaming, the latest to demand his money back and the first to notice that Luanne wasn’t exactly in love with her barber’s chair anymore. When Bill came in during the afternoon for his shift, he brought her sweet tea and mopped up her tears with all of the kindness any uncle could offer.

“Maybe we could put out a tray of mints!” Bill jabbered excitedly. “Oooh! A WHOLE TRAY OF Hostess cupcakes!”

She shook her head. “That’s not gonna fix bad sideburns,” she replied. “We’ve gotta thing of something really really special, Bill! Something that’s gonna make everything a whole lot better all at once.”

He frowned. “You can’t think of anything?”

“Nope.”

He pouted. “Luanne, I don’t know if your psychiatrist told you this, but he’s sorta killing off your imagination.”

“No,” Luanne said, shaking her head. “Bill, have you ever felt like you were meant for something else?”

He sighed. “Musicals. I always wanted to sing but my teacher said the steroids messed up my voice. I showed her!” Luanne remembered that Bill had ended up in a barbershop quartet and grinned at him. “Are you feeling like you don’t belong here anymore, Luanne?”

She bobbed her head. “But I don’t belong back at college. But that doesn’t make me belong here any less?” Bill watched her, an understanding look illuminating his features. “So I just belong somewhere else.” 

“At the trade school,” said Bill. “Learning how to make your own cars.”

Luanne smiled. “You understand easier than Doctor Hippensteel,” she admitted ruefully. “I just wish someone would really listen to me this time. I know what I wanna do with the rest of my life.”

“Your Uncle Hank’s just trying to protect you,” Bill explained. “He remembers those old days when you thought your future was in puppets.”

Luanne lifted her shoulders. “I guess everyone changes some,” she admitted. “I thought I’d always be Lucky’s wife,” she said. “But now…” she bit her lip. “Is it mean of me to say I’ve been so busy that I don’t have time to miss him much now?”

Bill gave her a tender smile. “Not the way I miss Lenore?” she nodded. He nudged her. “Lucky was a nice fella, and I know he loved you. But…well..”

“But he liked being free more,” Luanne said. “His mind was always somewhere else instead of with me and with Gracie. It was like we were weird aliens to him, and he was just kinda…”

“…Out of it?” suggested Bill.

“A user,” she said. “He used everyone to make money. He left me whenever he thought he should be somewhere else yanking up stumps. I know he really loved me, just like you said, but sometimes I think I deserved someone who cared…more?” she ventured.

Bill shrugged. “It’s hard to love the same person forever. It’s different, with me and Lenore. We had something special.” He drifted off as he sniffled. “But that’s all gone now.” 

She patted his shoulder awkwardly. “You do a real nice job without her. You even have dates with girls!” 

“I sure do!” he brightened. “Though I cry through most of ‘em….anyway, a soul can’t mourn forever,” he declared. “every person’s different, and no one ever keeps feeling the same pain for the rest of their lives.”

Luanne smiled. “Time’s a great healer.” She gave him a loose, one-armed hug. “You’ll do just fine without her, you wait and see Bill.”

“It’s been a long twenty years,” he said. “And mine

“Stop it,” she said fondly. Pulling a chip from the pile, she spun it between her nails. “Bill,” said Luanne suddenly, “have you ever wanted your own business?”

“Sure!” he grinned. “But the last time I tried it things fell apart in two minutes. Your Uncle Hank had a little bee in his bonnet over that.”

“I know uncle Hank,” she agreed readily enough. “Maybe if it was a business you were already running, he wouldn’t get all worried?”

“I don’t know,” Bill admitted. “I’m getting close to retirement age. I might even try to get a bass boat and practice my deep sea fishing.”

“I thought you were allergic to marlin,” she said.

“No, I said I was allergic to Marlon Brando,” he replied. “Maybe I should just keep on staying home,” he said. “Sit under my big porch light and just let the fireflies buzz around my head.”

She chuckles. “Thank you for the Twinkies, Bill, but I don’t want any more.”

Bill gasped at the very idea. “As long as the customers keep eating them, I’ll be just fine with the twenty pack I’ve got in my locker.”

“I don’t know – it might be pretty messy.”

“But they’re fine eating, and nobody can be cranky when they have a face filled with creamy filling!” Bill gave her a smile when Luanne’s look took on an air of puzzlement. “What’d I say?”

“You really love being a barber.” He nodded. “And if you could do anything else with the rest of your days – would you?” He shook his head.

“Whatt’re you thinking about?”

“Bill,” she asked suddenly, turning toward him with large tear-filled eyes, “how would you like to own your own barber shop?”

*** 

The money was a handsome pittance; more than enough to get Luanne’s tuition paid off. She bought a junker and started fiddling with it every morning while plotting to use her pooled salary to buy that garage. At this point- in spite of her easy expertise, the people around her grew blunt in their assessments that she would never be able to afford her own garage. 

Uncle Hank offered her a job in the secretarial pool at Strickland (far from Buck’s lechery, at Hank’s insistence and Luanne’s pleasure). But she turned down the offer. No matter how hard school was on her, she didn’t want to back down and go back to the world that had made her so utterly miserable. Every tow rope she was offered was declined, and thus did she keep her nose to the grindstone.

She didn’t have a lot of support. Peggy was cautiously optimistic that all of these long hours might lead somewhere, but Doctor Hippensteel was disapproving of her choosing such a difficult profession. “Again, I was hoping you might take on a more creative pursuit,” Doctor Hippensteel scolded. “Perhaps something like darts?” But she had grown an opinion separate entirely from his – she was ready to go, at long last.

At school they pretended to listen to her while she tightened gaskets and turned over engines. Luanne didn’t notice – she had actual talent at the tips of her fingers and she was bound and determined to use every ounce of it to further her aims.

But Luanne’s eyes were on the prize now. And no one could stop her now that she was in motion.

When her Uncle Hank slipped a copy of a Luby’s job application, she had finally had enough.

“I’m not gonna go wait tables,” she said, pushing the application back across the table toward him. 

“Luanne,” he said patiently, “You’ve been pulling in a B- average. Those are the best gosh-darn grades you’ve ever gotten,” he said with firm pride in his voice, “but it’s not enough. You’ve gotta be the best if you want guys like Louie and Abe down at the Sip and Tug to take you seriously.” 

“I’m in the top ten,” Luanne said defiantly. “And I study every day, Uncle Hank. I really want to do good this time.”

“Give me one reason why this isn’t an asinine trip back to Arlen Beauty Academy.” Hank replied. She knew he could close his eyes and picture one of her million and a half disasters.

“’Cause I haven’t quit,” Luanne said firmly. “I haven’t quit once. I’m never going back, Uncle Hank. ” she nodded firmly. “Aunt Peg knows I’m gonna make it. And if you don’t believe in me I might as well move back into my own house.”

He sighed. “Don’t be a jackass,” said Hank. “The house is barely finished. I still need to finish tweaking the central heating system to run on pure propane, and I wanted to double-bolt those reinforcement beams. You’re gonna have pure one hundred percent marble on that kitchen floor, and Gracie’s room needs double-shag carpeting before I even come close to signing off on it.”

Luanne’s smile was a ghostly acknowledgement of her Uncle Hank’s efforts. “You don’t want me to stay around for any other reason.”

Hank adjusted his glasses. “Your Aunt would miss you if you left. She loves Grace and she loves you,” he said. “And I’m rather….” She watched him struggle for the proper words, “FOND of you…” he said.

Luanne smiled. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me.” It beat ‘I tolerate you’ by miles and miles. “Thanks, Uncle Hank.”

Hank coughed and adjusted, taking back the Luby’s application and tucking it under his arm. “Might as well keep these for when Bobby’s ready for his first job.” He sighed and adjusted his glasses. “You’d better make it,” he advised stolidly. “I can’t afford to bail you out.” 

She knew. This was her own project – she was sticking out her own neck, on her own time and with her own reputation on the line. It was sink or swim time, and Luanne would be forced to fail or succeed for the first time without anyone to help her out of the pitfalls looming before her. 

Luanne stood up, pushing herself back from the table with a determined flourish. “Tomorrow,” she said, “I’m gonna build my own chassis from scratch,” she said. “If I do it right I’ll pass. If I don’t, they’ll kick me out.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “I really don’t wanna not pass, Uncle Hank,” Luanne admitted.

Hank patted her shoulder awkwardly. “I’m sure you have the skills to do a re-build,” Hank said. “You used to fix .” He walked to the back door. “Speaking of, can you take a look out back?”

He opened the back door. Luanne followed him over, peered through the space and let out a tiny gasp. His truck sat with its hood open, a set of silver Craftsman tools gleaming in the hot midday sunshine. “I’m having the darndest problem with the fuel line. I checked to see if it was shredded, but I think the intake valve might need to be tightened.” With as much magnanimity Hank had ever afforded another person, he said, “Maybe you could give it a look?”

Luanne threw an arm around her Uncle’s neck and squeezed mightily. “Thank you Uncle Hank!” she squeaked, then let go and made a beeline for the truck. She’d fixed the poor old gal a million times, and she could do it once again. 

Hank scratched the back of his neck and gave her a bashful grin. “Mind the paint job,” he instructed, and started cleaning up the bench beside him.

**9: Bobby’s ex**

The morning of her exam, nothing went right. Gracie had a fever and her Aunt Peg was busy enough with a. Yet her Aunt Peg didn’t complain – she simply picked up the baby and took her to the doctor while Luanne ran over the various instructions she’d memorized over the years. She knew she could do this. She didn’t have a single doubt in her mind.

She rushed out of the house just after her Uncle Hank had rushed off to Strickland in his truck. And while she ought to have expected it, the next little messy twist in the morning’s brouhaha involved a member of the Hill clan. “Luanne!” Bobby shouted, his short legs pumping as he ran toward her. “Can you give me a ride to school? Mom forgot me when she took Gracie to the doctor’s.”

Luanne almost let out a scream of frustration upon seeing her cousin. But she flung the door open and Bobby climbed in. “Buckle down, Bobby!” she ordered, her foot slamming down on the gas. Bobby gasped and smacked into the dash as she pulled out. He cried out and rubbed his forehead, trying to disperse the pain flowing through his body.

“I TOLD YOU TO BUCKLE IN!” Luanne screeched.

“I can’t find the buckle!” Bobby panicked, but his fingers skittered in the right direction, somehow hooking his belt together with decent speed. Luanne was flooring the accelerator, rushing to get to the technical school – she threw herself into the last available space and grabbed her textbook and tools. 

“Come with me,” she ordered, tucking her hair back and up. 

“But my school’s all the way across…” Bobby began.

“Do you want me to live in Uncle Hank’s guest room for the rest of my life?” she asked. “Maybe I’ll have another baby! Maybe it’ll share your room!”

“Gah, no!”

“Good.” She straightened the hem of her shirt and marched toward the school. “Stay quiet and I’ll sign you in as late. If you ruin this for me, I’ll start hanging my bra and underwear in your room to dry! Right next to the window, where CONNIE can look in and see them!”

She knew too well what would make poor Bobby behave; he immediately held up his hands in supplication. “I’ll be real quiet Luanne!” 

“Okay,” she pushed open the door, allowing him admittance. “I’m really scared,” she admitted.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, unleashing his Yakov Smirnoff impression. “You know more about cars than my dad.”

She had needed that reminder as she entered her silent classroom. There was that derisive laughter, the commentary on Bobby’s presence, that she had received on entering the classroom six months before with her daughter. It solidified Luanne’s resolve. She would never win their respect, but she sure as hell would win their envy.

One written exam and a rebuilt, working engine later, she stood before her professor with the key to a 65 Ford pickup in her hand.

He gave her a gimlet-eyed glare before ducking into the truck.

When he turned the key, the engine roared.

*** 

The family bought her forty ounce steak and a gift certificate to the Mega-Lo Mart, the later of which Luanne spent on antibiotics for Grace’s illness. She came down with strep throat the next morning, ended up with her own dose of antibiotics, and called Doctor Hippensteel to fill him in on the progress she’d made.

The doctor’s disapproval radiated through the air. “That’s all well and good, but I think your fixation on an automotive career is sign of…” she could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, and literally guessed what the rest of his suggestion would be. "...I think it’s a sign of incipient penis envy. You should return to my office for further treatment…”

In a moment, her heart hardened against him. “Bye, Doctor Hippensteel,” Luanne said dreamily. 

“Luanne, let me be frank with you. I find your presence utterly enchanting. If we were to become a family, I could provide the best care possible for Gracie, and your grief might improve if you had a man about the house.”

“But I don’t need a man to make me happy anymore. I have my baby, and a new house, and tomorrow I’m going to apprentice somebody, and someday soon I'll have my own garage. I don’t need a guy to help me out! I did all of it on my own.”

“You sound delusional.”

“But I feel alive,” she replied calmly. “I’ll be okay, doctor, but if you aren’t, it’s not my fault.” The realization lightened her load by a hundred degrees. Then she hung the receiver up and locked her grief behind her permanently.

**10: My Very Own**

Luanne did get that apprenticeship, and five years later she stood on the steps of her very one Slurp and Go. She and Gracie moved back into the house her Uncle Hank had constructed for her, and she dwelled there quite happily. 

The men came and went at irregular intervals. Sometimes the money was tight, and not every good old boy wanted to surrender his precious truck to Luanne’s loving, curious hands. But still she survived, grew and prospered. It was the ‘something else’ Buckley’s angel had promised her so long ago, the ‘something else’ that didn’t involve repeating her parent’s mistakes.

It wasn’t going to be a happily ever after story right away. But Luanne didn’t need fairytales anymore. She had grown satisfied with the promise of a happy tomorrow – so happy that the forever part didn’t matter anymore.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> The characters in this fic are the property of **Fox Entertainment,** and are not being used for the purpose of monetary gain.


End file.
